


Wade Wilson is A Work of Art

by TheStigsWriterCousin



Series: The Artist and His Muse [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Peter is 20-something, Peter is an Art Student, Strangers to Lovers, Wade is 30-something, Wade is His Muse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStigsWriterCousin/pseuds/TheStigsWriterCousin
Summary: Peter sees Wade late one night in the park and is immediately inspired by his unique appearance. He visits at the same time every night for months to watch him and draw him until one night they meet and Peter's secret is discovered.





	Wade Wilson is A Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a two-part story. I split it this way so that this part could be read as a one-shot with a lower rating, while the follow-up will be rated E. The second part is also from Wade's point of view.

It was almost two in the morning and Peter sat on a bench by the fountain, waiting. He stared at the empty page, pencil in hand, ready to start sketching as soon as his subject came into view. Like clockwork, for the last four months, the man whose name he didn't know, but whose face he could never forget, walked his dog in the field next to the fountain.

 

He hadn't **meant** to stalk the man, if you could even really call it that- Which his friend MJ did- It just happened. He had been out late, not having a chance to drop his school supplies at home before going out with his friends. After they had finished for the night, he couldn't sleep so he went for a walk in the park and that's when he saw him.

 

At first, he paid just enough attention to him to be sure he wasn't going to murder him, but when he picked up after his dog, he came closer to use the trash can next to the bench and Peter unintentionally got a better look at him. The man smiled politely, but awkwardly at him, the kind of smile you give when you accidentally make eye contact with someone on the street. Just enough to not be rude.

 

Peter saw his skin in the bright light of the streetlamp by his bench and was instantly intrigued. It was a rough texture, spanning across all of the exposed skin that he could see and Peter realized, when the man looked over at him briefly, that he also didn't have any eyebrows.

 

As soon as he walked away, Peter started sketching, captivated by the depth and coloring of the man's coarse skin. Part of him wished the man wasn't already walking away because he wanted to see what his expressions looked like without eyebrows. What did his full smile look like with the scar tissue at the sides of his mouth?

 

The next day, Peter stayed up late hoping to find out. He'd been sitting in the dark, waiting long enough that his eyes had adjusted enough to make out the details of his face in the dim light. Peter had always hated portraits. People were just so **boring**.. When it came down to it, it was just the same features in slightly different combinations over and over again, but this man.. He was unique and Peter couldn't bring himself to stop showing up.

 

He had filled several sketchbooks with different images of the man from close-ups of just his eyes to full-body images. Peter wasn't sure if his skin was the same below his clothes, but he'd certainly thought about it. A lot..

 

Peter's face burned red as he thought about the few pictures he'd drawn at home, speculating what the man looked like under his clothing. He told himself that it was just artistic curiosity, but he still felt a twinge of guilt, like he was invading the man's privacy. Since then, he'd kept those thoughts in his head, but he still watched, memorizing the shape of his body beneath his clothes.

 

On warmer nights the man would forgo the hoodie he usually wore for a more fitted t-shirt that enticed Peter even more. He could see the expanse of skin up to his biceps, the same texture as the rest of what Peter had seen and he assumed that it **was** like that all over.

 

He wasn't stupid, he knew that most people wouldn't find it attractive, that his skin was probably the reason the man walked his dog in the middle of the night, but Peter loved it. He wanted to know what it looked like in the light of day, what it felt like to to touch it..

 

He glanced down at his phone. 2:45. He looked around the park, not seeing the man anywhere for the first time in months. He pulled out some of his previous drawings, stacking the loose papers on his lap, flipping through them until he found an earlier picture he'd been meaning to re-draw. He fumbled for the pencil he'd dropped into his bag when suddenly, there was a huge dog jumping onto the bench next to him.

 

“Woa-!” He was knocked off the side of the bench by an enthusiastic animal as he dropped his bag and its contents to the ground next to him.

 

“Bob!” Peter vaguely heard a voice call out from the side of him, but he had a face full of pit bull that he was trying to keep at bay, which was hard when he was practically upside down, hanging off of the park bench.

 

Peter laughed a little once he realized that the dog was less 'maul your face off' and more 'lick your face off'. Just a few moments later, the voice was closer and the dog was being hauled off of him and scolded.

 

“What the hell, Bob?!” Peter watched as the man wrangled the dog by the leash that had apparently been yanked away from him, tying him to the leg of the metal bench. “Fuck, I'm sorry. He never does that..” The dog just smiled at the two of them as the man reached out to try to help Peter to his feet.

 

As soon as the dog was out of the way, he recognized the man and his breath caught. He twisted his legs off of the bench and moved into a sitting position, ready to reach out to take the scarred hand that was offered to him when it brushed past him.

 

“..What-?”

 

Peter watched the man's hand reach out to the side of him and his stomach dropped when he realized that his drawings were spread out across the ground around them. “I-I-” Peter stuttered, unsure of what to even say as the man looked around and noticed that every single drawing was of him.

 

The man crouched down, collecting the drawings from around them, flipping through them before looking over to Peter. “What the hell is this?”

 

Peter tried to read his expression, but it was shifting quickly between confusion and anger and.. Sadness?

 

“Is this what you do every night out here?” He shoved the drawings against Peter's chest where he was frozen on the ground. “You think it's fun to come out here and watch me? Is this some kind of joke to you?”

 

“No!” Peter shook his head quickly. “No, it's not- I just..”

 

“You just what? Wanted to study the freak? Thought it might get you bonus points in class to draw someone like me?” He sat back on his heels a little. “Do you really think I want the rest of the world to know how ugly I am?”

 

Peter couldn't stand it, hearing the man talk about himself like that. Everything in him just wanted to argue back and to tell the man how wrong he had it, to explain his intentions, but he couldn't get a word in. “I think you're beautiful!” He blurted out before the man could continue, instantly tightening his lips, not sure if he was going to regret saying that or not.

 

“..You..” The man looked at him like he had two heads. “..What?”

 

Peter gulped, but relaxed a little, fairly certain he at least wasn't going to get punched. “I um.. Think you're bea- Uh- Handsome?” Peter spoke, a little more unsure now that he had time to second guess what he was saying. “I'm sorry. It's weird and I'm a creep, I didn't mean-” Peter had a hard time getting a complete thought out with the man staring at him. “I just was watching you and I think you're really uh- Nice to look at and I like drawing you..”

 

The man leaned in a little closer, kneeling. “This.” He pointed to his face. “You think **this** is nice to look at?”

 

Peter nodded.

 

“Do you need glasses?”

 

Peter shook his head, gripping the drawings against his chest, trying to shrink in on himself.

 

“Let me see those.” The man reached out for the pages he was holding and he reluctantly handed them over, watching the man's expression as he looked through them.

 

Peter sent a silent 'thank you' up to the sky that he had left the more.. Provocative drawings at home. He hoped that he could tell from looking at the drawings that Peter didn't mean him any harm. Most of them featured either neutral or happy expressions and he thought they were a fairly accurate representations.

 

“Why?” He dropped the papers down to his lap and looked back to Peter.

 

“What?” Peter didn't understand the question.

 

“Why me?”

 

“You're interesting..”

 

“Yeah, that's one word for it..” The man bit back sarcastically and something in Peter snapped. He hated that the man clearly didn't understand what Peter saw in him and thought that he must be lying because he just didn't get it. Peter wanted to make him understand.

 

Peter sat up a little straighter, shifting up onto his knees as he reached his hand out to the man's face. He could have pulled back, stood up and walked away, but he didn't. He just jerked back a little, eyes darting between Peter's hand and his eyes, but the boy held his ground. He gave the man a moment, one last opportunity to stop him, before he moved again, fingertips running across his cheek, thumb barely brushing the edge of his mouth.

 

It felt smoother than Peter had thought it would and he found himself feeling more bold as the man leaned into the touch, just slightly. “I've never seen anyone that looks like you..”

 

He huffed a small laughed. “That should be a good thing.”

 

“It's not.” Peter said seriously as his hand moved down the side of the man's neck, thumb swiping back and forth across his cheek slowly. “People are so boring, they all look the same- They all **want** to look the same- But not you. You're one of a kind.”

 

The man cleared his throat but didn't speak as Peter's hand slid down his neck to rest across his collar bone, obviously a little uncomfortable with the touch, but not enough so to push him away.

 

“Is it..?” Peter glanced down his chest hoping that the man understood the question.

 

“All over?” He nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Peter could feel both of their hearts beating quickly as he applied enough pressure to feel the texture of the skin beneath the soft cotton shirt. He had never been so bold before in his life, but something about how insecure the stranger was made him want to act on his feelings. It seemed easier knowing that he wasn't the only one that was nervous.

 

“My name's Peter.” He croaked out, licking his lips, mouth suddenly dry.

 

“Wade.” He set the drawings on the ground and placed a hand over Peter's, guiding it upward to drape over his shoulder as he moved in closer, wrapping his own arms around Peter's waist. He gave Peter the same pause as he was given, just in case he didn't want to continue.

 

Peter let himself be pulled in, bringing his other hand to grip the back of Wade's neck to let him know he absolutely wanted him to come closer. As their noses touched, Peter let his eyes close. He took in a soft breath, loosening his lips just before Wade's were against his.

 

Wade's arms were gripping him tightly, pulling him upward into the kiss and Peter let himself be moved. When Wade's lips fell open, Peter tilted his head and the other man took his bottom lip between his own, sucking it gently.

 

As he ran his tongue across Wade's lips, Peter could feel Wade's hands slide from behind him to his front, pushing him back slightly. He let go of the man's neck, moving his hands to Wade's to stop him, breaking away for a moment in the shuffle. He brought their lips back together, holding Wade's hands loosely by his side. If the man really, really wanted to stop, he could easily pull them away, but he held on loosely, letting Peter bring him back in.

 

Peter kissed him deeply, not sure if he was going to stop him and not wanting to lose the opportunity if he was. He tasted Wade's tongue like he was on borrowed time, smiling a little when the other man let him, tangling his own with Peter's. He let out a soft moan as Wade sucked his tongue, leaning forward enough to make Peter arch his back to stay balanced, pressing their chests together.

 

Wade's hands tugged away from Peter's grip, but before he could frown, they were on the sides of his head, tilting him to change the angle. Peter's hands instinctively moved to Wade's hips, sliding underneath his shirt to feel the skin against his.

 

He had no idea what had come over him. Maybe it was the fact that he felt like he knew Wade so well already or that the other man seemed hungry for his every touch.. He didn't care, he just knew he wanted more of this beautiful, unique man. He wanted to see and touch and draw every inch of him.

 

Peter's hand moved across Wade's stomach, pausing just above his belt buckle, the tips of his fingers sliding between the firm muscle and the restrictive fabric. Before Wade could react, a loud bark rang out from behind the man reminding them both that they were making out in the middle of Central Park.

 

When Wade pulled back, Peter was breathless as he let his hands fall to his side and the man laughed a little, turning around. “Wow, Bob. Cockblock much?”

 

Peter picked up the stack of drawings and smiled as he stood, watching Wade petting the dog as he untied the leash. He didn't really know what to say, he'd never been in the position that they were in. He'd never kissed someone that he'd just met and he didn't know if Wade had either or if he wanted to continue..

 

“Do you want to come by my place for coffee?” Wade turned back to him much more relaxed than before. Peter thought he must have realized that he was serious about his intentions and wasn't up to anything unsavory.

 

Peter smiled a little as he put his things away into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “I don't drink coffee..”

 

Wade grinned and started walking away, looking over his shoulder. “Neither do I.”

 

 


End file.
